Ride On by Stephen J. Martin Page A

fright. Now tell me what happened. Jesus …’
    â€˜Yeah. Right. Okay. Okay, well I was at home making the tea …’
    *
    Jimmy had put the phone down and was looking at Aesop on the couch.
    â€˜So you didn’t actually see a knife?’
    â€˜I saw enough. She had it in her bag and she was going for it.’
    â€˜Aesop …’
    â€˜Jimmy, you should have heard her. She was going on about how much she likes the night and being in the bleedin’ dark and that she was into blokes that are cute and dirty like me and Colin Farrell. At first I thought she wanted me to fu …’
    â€˜You and Colin …’
    â€˜I’m telling you man. She’s off her fucking trolley. Call the cops, will you?’
    â€˜Aesop, she didn’t actually do anything.’
    â€˜What?!’
    â€˜She didn’t stab you. You didn’t see a knife. All she did was sit down for a chat and a cup of tea.’
    Aesop stared at Jimmy for a minute. Then another minute as he played the whole thing over again in his head. Then he looked at the floor.
    â€˜Two cups,’ he said eventually.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜When I saw her going for the knife, I fired me cup of tea at her and legged it.’
    â€˜You threw your tea at her?’
    â€˜Right in the chops man.’
    â€˜Jesus Aesop …’
    â€˜But I didn’t hang about. I was down the hall and out the door before she had a chance to come after me. I caught a taxi on the quays – what are the fucking chances, right? – and came straight here.’
    Jimmy looked at the phone again and back at Aesop.
    â€˜Aesop, is there any chance – any chance at all – that you over-reacted?’
    â€˜Over-reacted? Smacked her with a pillow, like? For fuck sake, what was I s’posed to do? I was sure I was about to get a Bowie knife up the hole!’
    â€˜But all she said was that she liked the night time. I like the nighttime. I’m always up late writing. It’s nice and quiet. So what? And she likes Colin Farrell? Every bird on the planet likes Colin Farrell. They’re not all serial killers.’
    â€˜But she said I was dirty.’
    â€˜You are dirty. You’re a filthy bastard. Everyone knows that.’
    â€˜But girls aren’t s’posed to talk like that.’
    â€˜It’s not the first time you’ve been called names by a bird, Aesop.’
    â€˜And she said she met me before.’
    â€˜Yeah. In the Baggot.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜She told me in Vicar Street. She saw us play in the Baggot years ago. She was out with her buddies and saw us. You were chatting up her and her mates at the bar afterwards, acting the slut.’
    â€˜But …’
    â€˜Aesop …’
    â€˜But …’
    â€˜Aesop … did you throw scalding hot tea on Norman’s bird for no reason?’
    â€˜No … I … I … No! What about the knife?’
    â€˜What knife?’
    â€˜The one in … the one …’
    Aesop turned to face the empty fireplace. If he looked frightened before, the dawning realisation of what he may have just done was starting to sink in.
    â€˜Jimmy …’
    â€˜We need to call Norman.’
    â€˜What? Are you fucking insane? He’ll kill me!’
    â€˜Aesop, we have to. You just assaulted his bird with a cup of tea.’
    â€˜Oh fuck. Jimmy. What am I going to do? What if he …’
    â€˜Listen, you fucking lemon, she might be hurt. We have to call him.’
    Aesop stood up. He looked like a man on his way to the gallows. He turned back to Jimmy.
    â€˜She’s grand.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜She’s grand. It wasn’t hot.’
    â€˜The tea?’
    â€˜Yeah. It was half milk. Ah, it’s a thing I do. If I’m trying to get rid of a bird but I can’t get out of making her a cup of tea, I make sure it’s only lukewarm. They either don’t finish it or else